A/N: My friend Mendelssohn told me she didn't think this was what Beethoven was like. I know that. It's just the product of my wierd mind.

Beethoven: Piano Concert No. 2, Adagio

On the tablea group of shell fragments from a nutof the hickory tree.In the background, Beethoven.Exactly so.Smoky and sweet with a trace of bitterness.The nut like Beethoven, or Beethoven like the nut?The music of hickory nut fragmentsbeneath your teethorthe taste of half-shaded, half-exposed music?What came first?I am inclined to thinkthey were both born at the same time.The hickory nut was born with the essence of Beethoven inside itand Beethoven was born from a hickory nut,emerged perfect and wild and untamed and without words.Just music.What is Beethoven? Notthe scraps of the nut on the tablebut morethe brown sugary dusty bitter flavor in your mouththat is left over.

Yes. Exactly so.

A/N: The funny thing about this poem is that I was all set to write about Mozart (who was going to be the first in the series) but this popped out when I was watching my mom eat hickory nuts. So I thought, hey, why not do Beethoven first. And here it was.

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